It Had to Be You
by nlizzette7
Summary: She was fifteen when she first laid eyes on Carter Baizen. Sometimes she catches herself remembering that day, remembering that smile. And sometimes she imagines herself smiling back. AU, CaB - Takes place after Season One. ON HIATUS.
1. Tuscany

**Tuscany**

_Hot summer streets, and the pavements are burning._

_ I sit around trying to smile but the air is so heavy and dry. _

_Strange voices are saying (ah what did they say?) _

_ Things I can't understand._

:::

Blair calculates everything.

Every. Single. Thing.

She makes sure to find her place in the proper equations, so that even when something seems wrong - she can fix it. She can make it right.

With Nate, she is golden. They are perfect together, as long as she stays skinny, stays pretty, stays _perfect. _They are every dream of every parent on the Upper East Side. And if things were really what they seemed, they would grow old together and have three beautiful children and -

Things are not what they seem.

With Chuck, things go dark. She is the schemer, the partner in crime, the side of herself that she can't help. But with Chuck, that's _all _she is. They are games and tears and it hurts too much and too often to last forever. With Chuck, happiness comes at a high, and he never sticks around for the low.

And then there is Carter.

And everything changes.

:::

Blair sighs, glancing around the Tuscan cafe.

Couples are shamelessly kissing each other in dark corners of the room, moans emanating from women with long hair and wild eyes. Blair frowns, pulling out her compact to fix the pins holding up her own perfect up-do. She swipes more gloss onto her lips before tossing the small mirror back into her purse.

_- Sei così bella._

_- Ti amo così tanto._

Blair exhales, exasperated. She turns to the couple next to her, lifting her head at them. "This isn't a _brothel_. Get a room."

But she's bitter. Chuck should be here, and that should be them. Getting into trouble, making love, _falling in love._

But he isn't. So they can't.

Blair gets up from her seat, taking one last sip of her red wine. She signs the check and saunters out. She slides into her car and closes her eyes.

"I'm done mingling with the natives, Philip," she calls to the driver. "Take me back to the resort."

:::

During the rest of her stay at the Tuscan Four Seasons, Blair is alone.

She sits alone to nibble at a small salad in the hotel lobby. She reads books she's already read before, demands that the concierge send up every Audrey Hepburn movie available for renting. And she pretends not to cry during the final scene of _Breakfast at Tiffany's_.

Even though her pillow is damp when she finally falls asleep.

:::

On the last day, she decides that she'll need a tan if she's going to save face in the Hamptons in a few weeks. She slides into a slinky black bathing suit, the one she brought to impress -

_No. _She shakes her head, tossing a beach bag over her shoulder. That Basstard is _not _going to ruin what's left of her pathetic vacation.

She sits by the pool, feeling the eyes of at least three middle-aged business men on her. She groans, tugging her sun hat over her head, slipping a pair of Dior sunglasses on. She pulls out her phone, just to have something to do.

_B, please text me back. I'm worried about you. I'm so sorry about Chuck. Come home, we can hang out. - S_

_I know what Chuck did. And I know that we're not on good terms, but you can talk to me. I'm here. - Nate_

_I'm sorry. - C_

She deletes the last one instantly, calling one of the servers over to bring her a fruity drink. Blair takes a quick sip before she impulsively presses the shortcut for Gossip Girl. There are tons of posts about her being missing in action, even a few pictures of her standing alone on that helipad. Pathetic.

Scrolling down, she sees a picture of Serena and Nate together at the beginning of summer.

**Have ****_S _****and ****_N _****decided to rekindle an old flame? You know what they say about summer flings – the fire has to burn out sometime.**

Blair rolls her eyes. _Fantastic_.

Her dysfunctional best friend manages to steal her perfect summer, even after cheating with her ex-boyfriend.

There is no justice. And she refuses to believe in karma.

Blair scrolls down further, trying to avoid any mentions of Chuck Bass when –

"You know, you really shouldn't check that thing. It defeats the whole purpose of a vacation."

Blair drops her phone into her lap and spins around. She's peeved, about to give the pervert who's blocking her sun a piece of her mind.

Instead, she's frozen in place by familiar blue eyes and a genuine grin.

:::

She was fifteen when she first laid eyes on Carter Baizen, just a freshman in high school – not the Queen B. Not yet.

She was dressed in her perfectly prim uniform, a silk red headband on her head [before that was a _thing_, of course], as she sat on the steps of the MET. She was meeting Serena there for lunch, and she hated watching people like that.

She _hated _being alone.

But she waited, spooning yogurt from the cup in her hand. A group of St. Jude's boys passed her by, and she immediately felt a flush wash over her skin. They were much older than her, probably juniors. They tossed a football back and forth along the street, their jackets falling open, their ties hanging loosely around their necks.

One hung behind them, taller and more handsome than the rest. _Golden brown hair, bright blue eyes, lips that are always smiling._

He glanced at her, then looked again. His smile widened, and then he winked. Blair remembers the way she froze up, never one to have the highest self-esteem. He chuckled at her before turning away, continuing on with the rest of them.

But Blair was too smart to chase after Carter Baizen.

While the rest of the girls drooled over him, Blair built an army. She found her minions, held onto the beautifully shy Nate Archibald.

Because when Carter was gone, Nate would take his place.

And he'd be right by her side.

But sometimes she catches herself remembering that day, remembering that smile – the way he had so honestly admired her from far away.

And sometimes she imagines herself smiling back.

:::

"Carter Baizen?" she asks, pulling off her sunglasses. "I do have to say I'm surprised."

"Hello, beautiful," he says, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek. He plops down on the beach chair beside her, and she can't help but admire the lines of his chest, the planes that disappear under his black swimming trunks.

She childishly thinks, _We match._

"What are you doing here?" she asks, subtly pulling of her sun hat and patting down her hair.

"Haven't you heard?" he asks, throwing his hands behind his head. "I'm a global vagabond."

"Oh really?" she quips, arching her brow.

"I'm a man of the world," Carter confirms, closing his eyes. Blair smirks at him.

"You sound like a travel brochure," she says.

"Maybe I do," he shrugs. "But I'm enjoying myself, taking a walk away from the Upper East Side. You should try it more often."

Blair stares at him, wondering how he can be so casual about everything, just breezing through the life that she obsesses over everyday. Carter Baizen was all about underground societies and world travel and being _different._

And yet he still has two proud parents and an admissions ticket to Columbia.

She's just about to ask him about it when –

"It was nice catching up, Waldorf," he says, checking his watch. She winces at the nickname, hearing Chuck's voice.

But the way Carter says it is different.

Not condescending. It's something else. Something kind.

Her stomach turns when he walks away, an inexplicable sense of disappointment filling her. And then he stops, spins around to smile at her again.

"Tell me you'll have dinner with me tonight," he calls.

Blair Waldorf does _not _take orders from anyone, but: "I'll have dinner with you tonight."

He grins even wider this time. "Room number?"

Blair raises her eyebrows, like she doesn't understand what he's saying. "I'm in the third private villa by the beach."

He chuckles as he walks away. "Of course you are."

:::

Blair takes three hours and forty-two minutes to get ready.

She tries on four dresses until she decides on a silky red number that pops against her tan skin. She works on her makeup until it puts Audrey and Marilyn to shame. And she slides her feet into black pumps.

She stares at herself in the mirror for a long time before she considers herself beautiful.

Maybe it's the tan.

_Or maybe it's Carter._

:::

"Did I mention how stunning you look?"

Blair's glad for the dim lighting in the resort's restaurant. It hides the blush on her cheeks so well.

Carter Baizen is a charmer.

Not smarmy, like Chuck.

Not script-read, like Nate.

He's working her ego like it's his full-time job, and she finds herself falling into their teasing banter like she's done it all her life.

"So, fill me in. Last time I heard, you had tamed the notorious Chuck Bass," he says. "Where's your new beau?"

Blair swallows the lump in her throat, glancing down at the napkin in her lap.

"I guess some things are impossible, even for a Waldorf," she says, recovering from her embarrassment. Her mind scrambles for a good excuse, a good cover story. But her lips start spewing out the truth before she can think of one. "He just – he left me. We were supposed to come here together. But he never showed."

There's a pause, and she can feel Carter's eyes on her.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Blair."

She shrugs it off like it's not a big deal. [She's _Blair Waldorf_.]

He reaches across the table, tips her chin up with the tip of his finger. "A girl like you shouldn't be left waiting. You should be waited on."

:::

The conversation turns to other things.

Blair talks endlessly about Yale and minions and being the queen. It's her _senior year_, and Carter is amused.

And he wonders why things like this happen.

He wonders why Blair just walked into his life this way. In _Tuscany _of all places.

Carter reciprocates by telling her about the lacrosse team at Columbia, the endless workload, stories about all of her classmates that she never even knew.

It's comfortable.

It doesn't leave her feeling anxious, like she does around the Archibalds.

It doesn't leave her feeling horrible, like she does after her trysts with Chuck Bass.

It feels real.

And that's not something Blair has ever experienced before.

:::

There's a shift in the air as words dwindle.

Carter catches a whiff of her perfume as she leans over the edge of the table. He glances at the dip of her neckline. And she watches him watching her.

He impatiently raises a finger for the check.

:::

He grabs her hand and pulls her through the hotel lobby in record time. When the elevator comes, they run in, and he jabs at the "door close" button.

"Sorry, this ride is taken," he calls out to the red-faced man on the other side.

Blair's giggle is silenced when he presses his lips to hers, hands sliding down her sides, then up and under her dress. She moans into the kiss as he hikes her legs around him.

This is not Victrola, florescent lights and a cramped limo.

This is not a room at The Palace, awkward movements and hesitant touches.

This is Blair and Carter.

He pulls her into his room, still holding her thighs up. She trails kisses down his neck and bites down on the skin just under his collarbone. He groans, finding the zipper of her dress and tugging it down.

And he keeps his eyes on her as he moves against her, in her. Her head falls back, her hair falls wildly all around her face.

And he is beautiful.

And she is beautiful.

And they finish together, screaming out breathlessly.

:::

After, Blair curls into his chest, head tucked against his shoulder.

She'd expected him to leave after. Blair is not the type of girl who has _sex _like this.

Or, she is now.

But when he wraps his arm around her, she's okay with that.

"I don't know who I am," Blair admits after a long silence.

He glances down at her. "What do you mean?"

"I just – I'm always _next _to Nate or _behind _Serena or _waiting _for Chuck or surrounded by minions," she murmurs sleepily. "When you peel all of that away, Blair Waldorf isn't…anything."

He stares up at the ceiling, contemplating this. But Blair panics, speaking again.

"I know it's stupid. I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Carter smiles, lifting her head up. "It's not stupid. I felt the same way. Why do you think I left all of that? I didn't want Carter Baizen to just be another name."

She nods against his shoulder. "I don't want that to be Blair Waldorf either."

He grins at the adorable little pout on her face. "You like all those classic movies, don't you? And you like designing clothes?"

Blair nods again, realizing she's only just told him this at dinner.

"That makes you somebody, Blair. At least, to me."

:::

There are no promises after that. They tiptoe around labels, but they always manage find each other around the resort. They sit around on the beach and have drinks by the pool and somehow they don't tire of touching each other.

It makes Blair feel like a woman.

_The way he runs his hands over her and groans her name, breath heavy in her ear._

They aren't anything, but this has to be something.

And Blair decides not to let go of it just yet.

:::

"So, where are you off to now, Global Vagabond?" she teases, trailing a finger down his chest. He tries to hold in the shiver that runs through his body. But he can't, and Blair smiles when she feels it.

"I think I'll stay here for a while," he says, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Then I'm sure you'll miss me," Blair sniffs.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm leaving for Paris this weekend," she explains, "to see my father. And then I'm off to the Hamptons."

Carter nods and something darkens in his eyes. "Oh, right."

Blair doesn't think before she speaks. "My father has a guest house."

His eyes widen. "Blair, I don't think – "

Before he can finish, Blair is already pulling away. "Right."

"It's just not my scene, Blair. Paris, the Hamptons. I just – "

"It's alright, Carter," she insists, pasting on a fake smile. She drops a light, torturous kiss on his cheek before heading for the door. "I shouldn't have asked."

:::

They both stay awake that night.

:::

Blair packs, shoving clothes into her luggage, accepting the fact that her love life is doomed. She'll spend the summer – the _year_ – avoiding men.

The Queen of England can rule on her own.

And so can Blair Waldorf.

:::

It's not like Carter hasn't had girlfriends before.

But –

He closes his eyes and sees Blair. He wakes up and sees Blair. He's infatuated by her, the way she's hard on the outside and so much smarter than people give her credit for.

Their names roll off his tongue. _Blair and Carter._

And he likes the way that sounds.

:::

Blair sighs, flipping through an issue of Italian Vogue while she waits for her flight the next day. She doesn't like airports – she thinks there should be a first class area for waiting too – and she can't wait to flee Tuscany like she fled Manhattan.

At least her father will be consistent.

She tosses the magazine in her purse, standing up to buy another one, but there's a man standing in her way.

"Excuse – "

"We have to stop meeting like this," Carter says with a sheepish grin. And it's so corny that Blair can't stop the laugh that escapes her lips. She glances down at the bags in his hands, and her heart stops.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest.

He shrugs, taking the seat next to her.

"I've always preferred Paris over Tuscany."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, here's a little explanation as to why Carter's name is in the place of Chuck's in this fanfiction. Yes, I am still (and will always be) a die-hard Chair fan. They have been my OTP since episode one, and that will never change. But I adore Carter, and he always happens to pop up in my stories. I've been intrigued by the idea of CaB since "The Grandfather". So I finally gave in to writing this one. So even if you're an avid shipper of CB or DB, I ask that you try this fic out and give it a chance. This is set right after Season One, when Chuck leaves Blair on the helipad. Let me know what you think. :)


	2. Paris

**Paris **

_Stranger beware, there's love in the air under Paris skies._

_Try to be smart and don't let your heart catch on fire._

_Love becomes king the moment it's spring under Paris skies._

_Lonely hearts meet somewhere on the street of desire._

:::

If you were to ask Carter Baizen why he was lugging three suitcases through the Charles de Gaulle airport on Sunday morning, he wouldn't be able to give you a straight answer.

He listens to the click of Blair's heels in front of him, watches her sway her hips as she points out the line of drivers holding up signs.

She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him, a stray lock of her hair sweeping her skin.

Carter swallows, smiling back.

_He is here because –_

_He likes Blair Waldorf because –_

"Carter, what's wrong?" Blair calls. "Our car is over there." He shakes his head, shakes off this feeling he has, like he'd follow her anywhere. It scares the shit out of him, quite honestly. And now he understands why she is the only one who can make Chuck Bass chase a girl.

"We have to stop by _Le Petit Chocolat. _It's only the best café I've ever been to," she chirps, eyes wide as she looks out of her window.

Carter smiles, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds good."

"And the Louvre. I know it's silly, but I make it a tradition to stop by every time I come here."

"Alright. Whatever you want, Blair."

Blair glances at him, catches him staring quietly. On the plane, they'd teased each other for hours, falling asleep in First Class with their bodies pressed together under blue fleece blankets. It was more intimate than she'd ever been with Chuck, and even _he _had been her boyfriend for at least a week.

It isn't like Carter _doesn't_ want to be with her. But it's not like he walking around calling Blair his new girlfriend.

"What's wrong?" Carter asks, smoothing out the crinkle in her brow with his thumb.

"I don't want you to think I'm rushing things," Blair says, sweeping her hand to the view. "I know that this isn't your _thing_."

Carter smirks, leaning across the seat to grip the her hip. A small moan escapes his lips as he kisses her softly. Blair's eyes widen before she kisses back, stroking the stubble on his chin.

When he pulls away, she's breathless.

"I told you, Blair," Carter says, leaning back in his seat. "I'll go wherever life takes me. I'm just trying to have some fun."

Blair's face flushes, and her heart sinks in disappointment. "Is that the only reason you're here?"

Carter turns to her, shaking his head. "Of course not, Waldorf. You should know better."

And then he slides a hand to her thigh.

And there's no need for words anymore.

:::

"Daddy," Blair cries, throwing herself into Harold Waldorf's arms. "I've missed you so much."

Harold chuckles, pressing his lips to Blair's forehead. "I've missed you too, Blair-Bear. How was your junior year?"

Blair flinches. _Well, Daddy, I accused my best friend of being a drug addict, lost my virginity in the backseat of a limo, slept with my ex-boyfriend's best friend on multiple occasions, and had a pregnancy scare that was published via Gossip Girl._

"It was great," Blair grins, pulling away. She turns to give Roman a small smile and a kiss on the cheek before turning to drag Carter from the entrance.

"Daddy, Roman," Blair says, linking her arm through his. Carter grins at Blair's excitement, letting her pull him along. "This is my friend, Carter."

"Thank you for letting me stay here, Sir," Carter says, shaking Harold's hand. "I really appreciate it."

"Anything for a friend of Blair's," Harold says.

Carter glances at Blair, mouthing the word _friend_ before winking.

Blair's eyes widen, and she pushes past Carter to hide her blush. "Enough of the small talk," she calls. "I'm absolutely famished."

:::

"Can I help with anything?" Carter asks, straightening the collar of his Lacoste blazer. He leans against the kitchen counter as Harold tosses diced tomatoes into a bowl of salad.

"Well, thank you Carter," Harold says, handing him a wooden spoon to stir the array of dips on the kitchen counter. "Where did Blair go off to?"

Carter smiles, nodding over at the entrance of the kitchen. "Last time I checked, she was trying on the clothes she bought in Tuscany for Roman."

Harold grins. "Well, at least they're getting along. She's a handful, isn't she?"

Carter nods. "I'm coming to realize that."

"How long have you been seeing my daughter?" Harold asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Carter freezes before quickly recovering. He's used to the prying parents of the Upper East Side. Apparently, they're no different across the pond.

"Blair and I aren't exactly dating."

Harold shoots him a knowing look. "I apologize. How long have you been _friends _with my daughter?"

Carter can see where Blair gets her sly sense of humor. "I've always known Blair. But we just recently became close in Tuscany."

Close is an understatement. Flashes of Blair's naked curves and her hands gripping his shoulders filter through his mind. Carter coughs, stirring the tomato sauce with extra force.

"How nice," Harold muses, leading Carter into the dining room. They set the plates down on the table. "You're a fine young man, Carter. But I have to say that I'm surprised to see you here."

Carter looks up at this. "Are we talking about the same Blair? She has hundreds of friends. I'm sure she's brought along a few of them to meet you."

"Never," Harold argues. "Blair prefers to spend the summer away from her friends. We've always left the invitation open. I just always expected that she'd bring Nathaniel along before anyone else."

Carter nods, realizing that Blair's invitation had meant a lot more than she'd led on. "I'm just as surprised as you are, Sir."

:::

Blair waits until she hears her father's bedroom door click close to patter down the hallway and into the chateau's guestroom. She pats down her La Perla lingerie and pushes open the door. She watches Carter, lying in bed shirtless. He's got one arm behind his head, the other holds a thick novel. She smiles at the concentration on his face, such a serious expression.

Blair walks over, stretching out over the duvet. She slides under the book, kissing up the planes of his chest. Carter groans, sliding his fingers into her hair.

"Hi," she murmurs, lifting up to kiss him.

"Hi yourself," he replies. "Does your father know how sneaky you are?"

Blair smirks, running her hands down his ribs, making his skin tremble. "It'll have to be our little secret."

Carter's eyes darken as she slides her fingers to the waist of his silk boxers, and he flips her over, pressing her down into the comforter. As he presses against her, Blair can't help but notice the intensity in Carter's harsh pants. He doesn't even blink as he thrusts into her, just murmurs her name over and over until neither of them can speak.

When it's over, he lies beside her, desperate to catch his breath.

"Wow," Blair whispers, placing a hand on her chest.

"Yeah," Carter replies, frowning in – confusion? He places his hand over his own heart, afraid that it might burst through his skin.

"That was – "

"Amazing," Carter finishes, reaching for her hand. Blair slides it into his, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

"What are we doing, Carter?" Blair asks, propping herself up.

He smirks. "Do you really need an explanation?"

"_As if_, Baizen," Blair says, rolling her eyes. "I mean, what happens when this trip is over? Do we pretend this never happened?"

Carter sighs, wrapping an arm around her. "Is that what you want?"

Blair shakes her head, hiding her face. "No."

"Then no," he replies. "I'm here as long as you want me to be."

Those words seem to echo in the room again and again as they fall asleep.

:::

"Really, Blair?" Carter groans as she drags him along another cobblestoned street. They've been walking for hours, and he'd give anything to return to the place they'd been this morning, rolling under his bed sheets back at the Waldorf chateau.

"Come on, Baizen," Blair grins, gripping his hand tighter. She can't help but notice how impeccably perfect they look together. Her bright pink dress swirls around her knees, a brilliant contrast to the gray blazer and black slacks on Carter. She lets the film reel of her life play out as Carter finally lets a smile loose, chasing behind her.

They finally arrive at the Ponte Alexander. "This is my favorite place in the world," Blair whispers, gripping the ledge. They both stare out at the view of the blue sky behind the Eiffel Tower.

"Beautiful," Carter says.

But he's not looking across the water.

He's looking at her.

:::

They take a car down to the Rue Cler, and Carter patiently follows her into every store. She tries on ridiculous dresses and pops an array of foreign cheeses into his mouth. They laugh at the angry storeowner who slaps a sample out of Carter's hand after he's eaten one too many.

So he buys the most expensive block of moldy cheese in apology and promises that he'll give it to Harold when they get back.

"Hold on," Carter says, stopping in front of a rose shop. Blair waits, unable to keep the smile off of her face when he returns with a bouquet of pale pink roses. Blair's heart nearly stops as she takes them, pressing her nose to one of the bulbs. She holds herself back from saying that she prefers –

"I know that you prefer peonies," Carter says sheepishly.

Blair's heart melts. "Carter, you didn't have to get these."

"Of course I did," he says, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Oh, y'all are such a gorgeous couple," a Southern tourist swoons behind them. She takes out her camera and snaps a few photos of Carter and Blair.

Blair blushes. "Oh, we're not – "

"The credit all goes to my girlfriend," Carter cuts in. Blair's eyes widen, and she turns to him. "She's gorgeous."

Blair pinches herself as they continue down the cobblestones.

But it's not a dream.

:::

"I want you to know how happy I am for you, darling," Harold says. They're alone in the kitchen that afternoon. Roman is off schooling Carter on Blair's favorite French films, and it's the first time she's had a moment alone with her father.

"Thank you, Daddy," Blair replies.

"You seem more relaxed," Harold says. "You haven't even brought up any of your friends' scandals yet. This boy must be a great distraction for you."

Blair sighs. "I just hope it'll stay that way in the Hamptons."

"Blair-Bear, if there's one thing you can take away from my relationship with Roman, it should be this: When you truly care for someone, it shouldn't matter what anybody else thinks. People are always going to try to tell you who to love. But you should _always _follow your heart."

"Oh _Daddy_," Blair groans. "You sound like a low-budget Hallmark movie."

"I'm serious, Blair. Hold on to the way Carter makes you feel," Harold insists. "You're not going to find that in anyone else."

And when her mind wanders to Chuck Bass' face, she can't help but agree.

:::

Carter can't keep his hands off of Blair that night.

There's something about the glow of her cheeks, the way she's officially _his, _that excites him more than anything else. He follows her into her room, holding her up against the closed door behind them. Blair gasps as he spreads her legs and wraps them around his waist. She throws her head back as he grazes his teeth across her collarbone.

"That's amazing," Blair pants, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"I've never felt this way before," Carter admits, holding her closer.

They pause when Blair's phone chimes from her nightstand. She moves to get it, but Carter holds her there.

"Ignore it, baby," he rasps. Blair smiles at the name. She'd usually call it juvenile, something teen boppers would call each other in John Hughes movies. But it comes so naturally from Carter's lips.

"Let me just turn it off," Blair insists. Carter sighs in protest, following her to the bed. She has to enter her passcode three times before she gets it right, distracted by Carter sliding down the zipper of her dress.

She opens a new text message before powering down.

And she immediately wishes she hadn't.

**Looks like Bass hasn't wasted any time dethroning B as the queen of his heart. He's been spotted with his fifth Swiss model of the summer. Sorry B. You had to know it was too good to be true.**

"Blair," Carter starts.

Blair drops her phone, holding her dress up against her chest.

"He moved on," Blair murmurs.

Carter scoffs, surprised at her reaction. "Yeah. So did you," he says.

Blair stays silent.

"Didn't you?" Carter asks, tilting her chin up. There are tears in Blair's eyes, and she's powerless to stop them.

"Carter," she begins, trying to come up with the words to say. "Chuck was my first, my first _everything_. And you – "

"I was just your rebound," Carter finishes, angrily working the buttons of his shirt. "Well played, Blair. You really had me going for a second."

"I wasn't going to say that," Blair pleads, her voice breaking. "You're being crazy."

"You're right, Blair. I was crazy. Crazy to think that things could ever work out between us. Why don't you run back to Chuck? Let's see how many ways he can dump you before you finally get it."

Blair gasps, watching him turn to leave the room.

:::

"I'm sorry that you'll be leaving us so early," Harold says, genuinely surprised. Blair hovers outside of the living room, biting her thumb. "Blair told me that you would be going to the Hamptons with her."

"Blair's plans changed," Carter says. "They don't include me anymore."

Harold looks up, catching his daughter eavesdropping on their conversation. "I'm sorry to hear that, Carter. Just know that you're welcome back here anytime."

"Thank you, Sir," Carter replies. "I appreciate that."

That night, Blair hears her father's voice as she's falling asleep.

_Hold on to the way Carter makes you feel. You're not going to find that in anyone else._

:::

"Don't go," she says.

Carter exhales, closing his eyes. "Why should I stay, Blair?"

She's sitting on his luggage in the foyer early the morning after their fight. His expression softens when he sees that she's still wrapped in her fluffy white robe. There are sleepless circles under her eyes.

"I thought you wanted this," Blair says. "I thought you wanted me."

Carter sighs, kneeling on the floor, level with her. "You _know_ that I do, Blair. But you're not going to use me to get back at Chuck. I'm not going to play that game."

Blair shakes her head, looking down. "I was going to tell you that I was over him. I am _so _over him. I only want you, Carter."

Carter nods, sliding his hands to her lap. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Blair replies. She takes his face in her hands and gives him a soft kiss. "Please tell me you'll stay."

"I was never going to really leave," Carter explains, rolling his eyes. "I booked a room at a hotel ten minutes away."

Blair sighs happily, wrapping her arms around him. "Really?"

"Of course," Carter says, he kisses her again. "But I want you to know that the rest of the summer isn't going to be easy. They're all going to have something to say about us. Your friends aren't exactly my biggest fans. Are you prepared for that?"

"I'm ready for anything that involves you, Carter," Blair says. "You're forgetting who you're talking to."

Carter smirks, leaning into kiss her again. "That's right," he whispers against her lips. "My _queen_."


	3. The Hamptons

**Author's Note: **Hi guys! Okay, this chapter took me so long to write. I was watching a bunch of Chair vids, and it's hard to write for your AU ship when you're swooning over your OTP. But I finally managed to finish it, and I hope you guys like it. As always, let me know what you think - and if you all like CaB enough for me to continue this story. xoxo

* * *

**The Hamptons **

_Let's get out of this town, baby we're on fire._

_Everyone around here seems to be going down, down, down._

_If you stick with me I can take you higher, and higher._

_It seems like all of our friends are lost, nobody's found, found, found._

:::

By the time they board the Jitney on Saturday morning, Blair's mouth is set into a straight line, and Carter is anxiously drumming his fingers against the windowsill as he waits for their bus to depart. The shiny-eyed gleam of summer romance is slowly dimming as they grow closer and closer to their destination. They know that Upper East Siders are just as toxic on bright beaches as they are on city pavements. The bus engine roars to life like the start of a ticking time bomb.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" Carter asks, tracing a finger down her arm, stopping to tickle her elbow. Blair frowns, fighting off the smile on her lips, but it comes anyway. She shuts the magazine in her lap, rolling her head over to face him.

"I'm not _ignoring _you."

Carter smirks, his hand dropping to her bare thigh. She looks especially beautiful in the orange dress he picked out for her in Paris, and her tan from Tuscany is fading into a solid gold. It takes all he has not to lean over, grab her hair, and press his lips to her neck.

"You haven't said a word to me since our plane landed," Carter replies.

Blair sniffs, crossing her arms. "I told you that you could have the window seat."

Carter laughs, and it's infectious. Blair remembers when he used to walk into society events and light up the room. She'd been wrong all along. She doesn't need a golden boy or a partner in crime.

She _needs _Carter.

Blair swallows, eyes raking over his bronzed features. He's the leading man she always dreams of when she falls into a haze of Audrey Hepburn-induced dreams.

"What's up, beautiful? Lay it on me."

"Paris was _wonderful_," Blair sighs. Carter smiles, parting his lips to agree, but Blair continues. "But every relationship has its honeymoon phase, Carter. And then reality kicks in. Everything looks pretty in the City of Lights, but back at home…things are different. And you do have _quite_ the reputation, Baizen."

Carter rolls his eyes, reaches over to massage his girlfriend's shoulders. "We were in Paris for two weeks, Blair. I'm still – I still feel – " Blair waits for the same emotional virus that plagued Chuck Bass, the withdrawal from anything that could actually mean _something._

But he searches her eyes, looking for something until he finds it, and: "I'm not letting you go, Waldorf. This thing between us, it's not like anything else. It's real."

Blair's expression softens. "Realer than that Melanie Hart?"

Carter remembers the lanky redhead he'd dated most of his senior year, smirking at her. "Were you keeping tabs on me back in high school?"

Blair scoffs, the blush on her cheeks betraying her indifference. "Of course not. I mean, it was common knowledge that you dated that floosy."

"I don't think so. I remember those coy little smiles you used to shoot me between classes, out in the courtyard," Carter grins. Blair raises her eyebrows. "Don't worry. Jealousy looks hot on you."

:::

Blair was sixteen when she first spoke to Carter Baizen – if you don't count polite glass clinking and small talk at brunches and school gatherings. No, the first time she _really _talked to him was on the last day of her sophomore year. The day belonged to the seniors, really. They were out of their uniforms, conversations buzzing with summer plans and college orientations.

She was sitting at her usual seat, already shoving the older girls to make way for her spot on the social throne. Her minions surrounded her, Serena perched right by her side as the St. Jude's boys filtered into the courtyard.

"God, just look at Carter."

"That boy is _gorgeous_."

"Such a pity that we're losing that eye candy."

Serena had groaned, packed up her lunch, and bid Blair farewell. When she was a safe distance away, the girls resumed their gossip. "I hear that S had a fling with him."

Blair had frowned, eyeing her retreating best friend before glancing up at Carter. She wondered if there was a guy left on the Upper East Side – in all of _New York _– who Serena hadn't had a "thing" with yet.

Except for Nate, of course. Even Serena wouldn't stoop that low.

"Ladies, quit drooling," Blair sighed, snapping her fingers. "This isn't middle school. If you want to talk to Carter, go talk to Carter. If _not_, return your attention to our discussion about – "

"How about _you _go talk to him, B?"

Blair crossed her arms, glaring at Penelope. She'd never liked the girl. They only bothered to keep the snub-nosed groupie around because she had her father's key to the Yellow Room at Club Habit. It was the _it _place of the moment. But once that was cycled out, Penelope would be following right after it.

Blair huffed, setting her bag down on the table. "Fine, if you want to be children about it. Take notes, ladies."

She approached him with her head high. Blair wasn't the same blushing freshman she'd been on the steps of the MET two years ago. She was the Queen of Constance. The boys parted for her as she walked up, but she kept her eyes straight on Carter. She stopped in front of him with a small smile.

"Blair Waldorf," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Blair leaned over, taking the wide brown book in his hands. "I'm signing your yearbook," she replied, plucking the pen that was tucked behind his ear. He smirked, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise.

"Shouldn't you wait until I _ask _you to sign it?"

Blair grinned, adding a flourish to the end of her name before handing it back to him. "Waiting is for losers."

"Ah," Carter affirmed, shooting her a curious glance. "And that's certainly not you."

"Definitely not."

Carter chuckled, looking down at her girly signature. "I'll see you around, Blair."

Blair shook her head, curls falling over her shoulders. "If you're lucky."

:::

Blair is groggy when they finally reach the bus station, so Carter is the one to slip her coat over her shoulders and lug her bag on top of his. He smiles to himself as he helps her down the bus steps, surprised at how easily he fell into the role of Blair's boyfriend. There's something _about _Blair – something he can't wrap his head around. He's never met a girl so strong-willed and stubborn who still wanted to be taken care of like she did.

It throws him off balance when he considers the fact that he could do this for the rest of his life.

When Carter looks up, Blair is frozen on the landing in front of him. He frowns, following her gaze across the street to none other than _Chuck Bass_, hands filled with a bouquet of pink flowers. Carter stiffens, muttering "_Jesus_" under his breath. But he's silenced by Blair's lips on his, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

There's something about the way she's nearly clawing at his chest in desperation, intermingled with the leftover rage from Bass' little stunt at pulling the pretty boy out the poker game last year. He slides his hand down to Blair's thigh, holding onto her dress. His tongue is in her mouth, and it feels so good.

For a moment, they almost forget that they have an audience.

"What the hell are you doing with this insect, Waldorf?"

Blair pulls away, breathless, but she keeps a hand on Carter's arm.

"Well, if it isn't my failed protégé," Carter smirks, sliding an arm around Blair's waist. "Still following in my footsteps?"

"Shouldn't you be in some hostel, Baizen?" Chuck's jaw clenches as he looks from Carter to Blair. He settles on Blair's eyes, taking a step forward. "Blair, he's just using you to get to me."

Blair purses her lips. "That's a new one. I see that you're still _just _as self-absorbed as you were at the beginning of summer."

Chuck scoffs, pulling at the lapels of his jacket. "So that's what this is about? You're trying to get back at me for leaving you on that helipad?"

"No, Chuck. Some relationships are actually genuine." Chuck waits for her stare to waiver, for a smile to curl onto her lips. He waits for a sign that she's playing a game, that Carter's just a pawn but – "This was over when I landed in Tuscany _alone_. Goodbye, Chuck."

Chuck shrinks back, watching the way she looks at Carter.

"By the way," Carter says, looking down at the bouquet in Chuck's hand. "Blair hates dyed peonies. They're like a cheap version of the real thing."

:::

By the time Carter and Blair reach the van der Woodsen's, dinner is just being served. Their bags are taken, and they're ushered into the dining hall. Carter presses a kiss to her forehead, gently squeezing her hand as she prepares herself for the onslaught of drama that's about to occur.

And it starts with Serena.

"B, you're here," Serena chirps, pulling Blair into a tight hug. When she steps away, her eyes widen, and she blinks in disbelief. "With Carter?"

Carter's eyes flicker over to Serena, a second longer than Blair likes. And it's Penelope's high-pitched squeaky voice that she hears. _I hear that she had a fling with him._

And suddenly Blair loses her appetite.

:::

"Carter, we're so happy that you've joined us for the summer," CeCe calls from the head of the table. At this, Chuck rolls his eyes, letting out unintelligible murmurs. Beside him, Nate and Serena frown. Carter shrugs off the cold reception, smiling at the swooning CeCe.

"I'm happy to be here," he replies, squeezing Blair's knee under the table.

"Of course, we'll have to rearrange the room situation, but – "

Carter coughs, keeps his eyes on Chuck when he says, "That's alright, ma'am. I already unpacked my things in Blair's room for the night."

Blair flushes, kicking her boyfriend's shin. Carter is unfazed, offering a cheery smile as he turns back to his food. Like it or not, the thought of Carter and Blair having sex plagues the table. Chuck drops his fork and shoves away from the table. Nate shakes his head, staring at Blair with new eyes, jealous ones. Serena stares up at the ceiling, almost laughing at how ridiculous this situation is.

:::

For the rest of the vacation, they steer clear of the van der Woodsen summerhouse. Carter is back in good graces with his parents, so they let him stay at their house by the beach. Blair presses her ear to the other side of the phone while he talks to his mother, overjoyed when her name comes up in the conversation. _Did you say Blair Waldorf? What a lovely young lady. I'm glad that you've finally found yourself a good one._

Carter chuckles at Blair's blatant eavesdropping, nudging her away and pulling her onto his lap. "Not just good, Mom. She's the best."

When Blair pulls out her romance novels on the beach, Carter cracks open his textbooks. She's surprised to see that he's serious about giving Columbia a go in the fall. She closes her eyes and imagines herself at Yale, taking weekend trips to stay with Carter back in the city.

It takes a half hour for Blair to let out a long sigh and close her book. He peeks up at her as she stretches in front of him, sliding off his old crew T-shirt to reveal her tiny black bikini.

Carter decides that he's done studying for the day.

:::

It takes Serena three days to bring Carter up.

"God, B. How did it even happen?"

They're splayed out beside the van der Woodsens' pool, lazily sipping fruity drinks under the dwindling sun. Carter is off at the pool hall, reuniting with some old friends. He'd begged Blair to come along so that he could show her off, but she'd declined. Even Carter wasn't worth an afternoon of boozing and fluorescent lighting.

"Things just happen, Serena. We met in Tuscany and…" Blair sweeps the air with her hand, as if the gesture explains everything.

"And you two are actually…"

"Together," Blair finishes. "Look, S. I know that you two had a thing sophomore year."

"Which is totally over," Serena says.

"Good. Because I really like him, S. _I _like him." Blair eyes are serious, her mouth set in a straight line. She doesn't say Nate's name, but the thought is still there. Serena rolls her shoulders back, suddenly feeling too hot, too stiff.

Finally, she reaches out to rest her hand on Blair's. "I just want you to be happy, B. If you're happy with Carter, then I'm happy for you."

Blair offers a small smile, clinking her glass with Serena's, toasting to the end of summer. But a small memory tugs at the back of her mind, back in August, right before high school.

_"B, I'm so happy for you and Nate."_

And we all know how that story goes.

:::

Carter arrives in the middle of the afternoon, bearing the macaroons that he ordered from Blair's favorite French pastry shop. He knows that she misses the magic of Paris, that she's hardly impressed with their daily seaside dining. He strolls out to the courtyard, only to find Chuck Bass lurking behind Blair and Serena as they giggle by the pool.

"Stalking my girlfriend?" Carter asks. "Your obsession with her is getting a little tiresome."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "You can stop deluding yourself into thinking that you're anything more than a distraction. I'm Blair's one and only."

Carter nods. "If that's what helps you sleep at night."

"Actually, Blair's usually the one who takes care of that," Chuck drawls. Carter's jaw tightens. He considers raising his fist, ending this right here and now, but he decides that it's not worth it. Blair would kill him for it, and Bass isn't worth the trouble.

It's a standoff, bright blue eyes on dark brown ones.

But it's Blair who ends the fight.

And it's Carter who gets her arms around his waist. It's _his _name on her lips. And Blair Waldorf doesn't really belong to anybody.

But she chooses Carter anyway.

:::

It's not that he still loves Serena.

It's not that he ever did.

He looks at the blonde bombshell, but his mind stays on Blair _always_. Serena was a whirlwind of drunken nights and snippets of lust, but Blair is the future. His future.

But he can't pretend that Santorini never happened. Feelings existed there, and he remembers them well.

And from the looks Serena gives him when he arrives at the White Party, he knows that she does too.

:::

"Quit staring, Baizen," Blair teases, nudging him with her elbow.

"I can't. You're too beautiful," he replies, lips brushing her ear. She flushes as they walk through the crowd. All eyes are on them, and Blair loves it.

"You're just trying to butter me up so that we can watch your baseball game instead _my _soap opera tonight," Blair mutters.

Carter smiles. "Is it working?"

"_No_," Blair smirks.

Carter shrugs, dropping a hand to squeeze her waist. "I'll find a way to convince you."

:::

"Where's your new beau?"

Blair jumps in her seat, dropping her fork onto the plate in front of her. She turns to see Chuck standing behind her, much too close for comfort. With a frown, she shoves at his chest.

"Not that it's any of your business," Blair hisses. "But he went over to get me a drink. I'm parched."

"It's not your throat that's dry," Chuck smirks. "It's your date."

Blair pauses, shaking her head. "Why are you doing this to me, Chuck?"

Chuck clears his throat. "What exactly am I doing, Waldorf?"

Blair turns to look at him. "You're punishing me for being happy."

"I'm not – "

"When you left me, I was _heartbroken_. But I had to get over it. I had to move on. What do you _want _from me?" Blair rolls her eyes up, staring at the sky, willing the tears to go away. She tries to swallow, but her throat is closing up.

"Blair, I'm sorry," Chuck says. She looks into his eyes, but they're empty.

"That's not good enough," Blair replies. "You have to let me go."

"I can't do that."

Blair shakes her head. "Even if it makes me unhappy?"

He doesn't answer, just stares down at the ground. _He can't love her the way she wants to be loved._

"And that's why we can never be together."

Blair pushes away from the table, finds herself back in the summer house. A few stray guests trickle through the hallways, tipsy as they throw themselves all over each other. When she finally sees a head of light brown hair, she sighs in relief. But it's not Carter.

"Blair," Nate says, a hand reaching out to touch her arm. "I've been wanting to talk to you all summer."

She lets out a breath, looking over his shoulder. "I'm busy right now, Nate."

"About Carter," Nate continues.

"Have you seen him?"

Nate shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. "He left a little while ago. But Blair – "

"_Enough_. I am not going to listen to another speech about Carter. He can't be worse than the two guys who completely abandoned me when my social life was going up in flames. You had your chance, and so did Chuck."

Nate frowns, eyes narrowing like a little boy who can't get his way. "I was just going to say that he left earlier. With Serena."

:::

"Where is she?" Blair bursts into the Baizen beach house like a tiny brunette tornado, opening closet doors and looking under tables. She runs straight into a confused Carter, standing in the hallway with his white suit.

"Blair, calm down," he murmurs, holding her hips.

"I will _not _calm down. What was the plan, Carter? To run off with Serena when I had my back turned? Is that why you actually came here? To just – "

Carter claps a hand over Blair's mouth. "Blair, stop. Serena and I left at the same time, but not together. She was with some guy with scraggly hair and a tacky suit. His name was Dave or – "

Blair relaxes. "Dan. Dan Humphrey."

Carter nods. "I just came back to pick this up." He raises her wrist, clasping something around it. "I thought I'd be back before you noticed." Blair stares down at the Tiffany bracelet she's been talking about for weeks. It fits her wrist perfectly, popping against her tan skin. She swallows her pride.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't trust me," Carter states, but he keeps an arm around her. The smile on his face betrays the furrow between his brow.

"I do," she argues. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. "The people in my life just have a habit of betraying me. Especially at parties."

"I'm here for _you_, Blair. Okay? As long as you want. As long as you'll have me."

Carter's eyes are the most honest ones she's ever seen. And all she can say is, "Okay."

:::

That night, Carter makes love to her out on the beach.

It's supposed romantic, but she's _Blair Waldorf_, and the sand is ruining her hair. She starts to complain, but he silences her when he presses against her, groaning in her ear. They become of tangle of limbs, a symphony of grunts and sighs. He pins her down, holds both of her hands, and Blair's not sure if the stars she sees are in the sky.

:::

Afterwards, he lets Blair tell him stories. He gets a detailed account of every scandal that's ever plagued her life. He's heard most of them before, Gossip Girl blasts sent out when he caught a bit of signal on his many excursions. But he listens anyway.

And when she finally falls asleep, he picks her up and takes her inside, dropping her onto the bed. Carter dries her off, slips on her favorite La Perla nightgown before cuddling up beside her.

And at some point in the night, while he's dreaming of her, he startles awake, sitting up in bed, _gasping _for breath.

Because he's just realized that he's in love with Blair Waldorf.


	4. Upper East Side

**Upper East Side**

_And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid._

_I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did_

_I've been spending the last eight months, thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end._

_But on a Wednesday, in a café, I watched it begin again_

:::

Blair doesn't recognize the feeling at first. It's entirely foreign to her, a word that doesn't quite exist. As Carter whisks her through a whirlwind of dates and outings, she realizes that – for once – she's not _trying_. It's an effortless love – the thing of novels and films that she'd always tried to recreate with Nate and even Chuck.

And now she's with Carter, and it feels like she was born to do just this. She pulls on dresses without double-checking herself in the mirror. She wakes up without makeup and looks him right in the eye.

And with Carter, she doesn't have to be anyone but Blair.

:::

They arrive in New York a few days before everyone else, amidst the eerie calm before the storm. Before summer ends, Carter decides to take Blair down to the South Street Seaport. He stifles a laugh when he sees his girlfriend's disgruntled reaction at having to fraternize with Lower East Siders. When he asks her if she wants to take the subway downtown, she nearly threatens murder.

Carter tugs her to his side as they make their way through the crowd of tourists. He leads her to the water, and his heart leaps when her eyes catch the sun. He's had his number of beautiful girls in the past, but he struggles to even fathom their faces when he looks at Blair. He's nearly addicted to the way her skin always smells like flowers and her cheeks are rosy in the mornings – before she's even put makeup on.

He swallows down the feeling, knowing it's ridiculous. Carter likes to think that he knows everything – or _most_ things.

He likes to think that he's known what love is all along.

But when Blair tugs at his collar and snaps a picture of them together, he realizes that he's just now figuring it out.

"You weren't looking at the camera," Blair pouts, forcing him to pose again. Carter laughs, kissing her just as the flash goes off, just to spite her. Blair stifles a giggle and snaps at his chest in mock anger.

"You're incorrigible, Carter Baizen," Blair sighs.

"So I've been told," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her hair.

When the day ends, Blair throws herself onto her bed, sweeping the back of her hand over her forehead. He kicks off his shoes and joins her, thanking every star in the sky for keeping Eleanor Waldorf in Europe for an extra week. Blair stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed as Carter traces circles on her stomach.

"What's wrong?"

Blair frowns, glancing at him before looking away again. "I'm just – I feel _happy_. Unconditionally happy."

Carter raises an eyebrow and smiles. "And that's making you upset?" He traces patterns up to her ribs, and she shivers, letting out a long breath.

"I'd just always thought I'd been happy," Blair says, narrowing her eyes. Her mind filters through her memories, "And now I feel like that was never true. Not until now." She looks at him again, her eyes searching. "Do you know how that feels?"

And he does.

:::

School starts a week later, and they almost forget that they won't be spending whole days together anymore. Blair wonders if this is why summer romances never last. The bubble of infinite time they'd been living in has popped. And she's not too fond of this newfound separation.

On the first day of Constance, Carter helps her gets ready before he heads to class at Columbia. He pulls her kilt up her legs, zips it tight at her waist. Blair sighs as he tugs at one of her curls, tucking in the back of her shirt.

"I have to ask you something," Carter says, his voice solemn. Blair tenses, catching his eye in the mirror. Her insecurities bubble up and threaten to spill over. But when Carter speaks again, it's not at all what she expected. He chuckles in her ear, tugging her back against his chest. "Will you wear this for me later?"

Blair glances down at her Constance uniform and flushes. "Are you trying to scandalize me?" Carter laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. It's nothing like Chuck's forced, broken chuckle or Nate's airy boyish humor. It's the most natural thing she's ever heard.

"With the new semester," Carter says, "I figured that I'd need a private tutor."

Blair rolls her eyes. "You're in college."

Carter sighs in mock disappointment, pulling away from her. "Don't think you can handle the job?"

Blair's eyes widen before her mouth sets into a knowing smirk. "_Please_. You don't know who you're talking to."

:::

That night, Carter is exhausted when he arrives at the Waldorf Penthouse.

He shrugs his jacket off and turns on the light, only to find Blair splayed out on her desk, her white oxford unbuttoned and wide open. He raises his eyebrows, eyes raking over the sexy mess of curls around her face, the rolled up kilt at her hips.

Blair smiles, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. "Did someone call for a tutor?"

:::

If there was even a small notion that Blair had relinquished her spot on the Constance throne, it is quickly diminished when Carter shows up to pick her up from school. He looks especially handsome, bearing a strong resemblance to a preppy James Dean as he waltzes into the courtyard on an early fall day. His eyes are searching for Blair – only Blair – when he walks in, and everybody knows it.

"So it's true," Penelope sniffs, watching as Carter leans against the school gates, checking his watch for the time. Blair smiles, tossing her phone into her bag.

"Of course it's true," Blair scoffs. When Carter spots her, his face brightens, his lips curling into a wide smile. He makes his way over to Blair and her minions, and the girls watch on in absolute awe. They've always adored Carter, and now he belongs to Blair.

"Ladies," he greets before pulling the loop of Blair's skirt and dipping her into a perfect kiss. Blair is breathless when he pulls away and takes the bag off her shoulders. He presses his lips to her jaw, murmurs against her skin so that only she can hear. "You look beautiful."

It's both wonderful and horrible to watch.

Because, well, let's not kid ourselves. They all wish it were them.

And when Chuck and Nate surface from class, they're just in time to witness the little spectacle out in the courtyard. Nate flinches, and Chuck gets a sour taste in his mouth.

Because Blair isn't just the one who got away.

She's the one who ran right into the arms of Carter _fucking _Baizen.

:::

There comes a time when a relationship shifts. It's not that they get used to each other. It's more than that. Blair realizes that, besides Serena, she doesn't care to have friends. And Carter, if you really think about it, has been wandering alone his entire life. It's nice being at the head of the pack, it is.

But it's lonely, too.

And so it's a really a remarkable thing - them finding each other.

They go to Serendipity and eat ice cream even though it's cold, followed by chilly walks to Blair's favorite stores. He obliges every time, just as long as she tries the dresses on for him. And when the tourists surface for the winter season, he speaks to her in flawless French, words rolling off their tongues like the language belongs to them, like they're keeping secrets from the world. They enjoy the same books and, unlike the other boys, he does more than tolerate the films she likes. He likes them too. They read together in the afternoon with matching cups of espresso emptied on his nightstand. Carter plays a remarkable actor, taking on different voices as he reads the dialogue. She rolls her eyes, pretends it's all childish, hiding the smile on her face until he finishes the chapter.

Carter Baizen isn't the type of boy Blair intended to fall in love with. Falling in love with Nate was a decision. With Chuck, it was an escape. With them, she jumps. With Carter, she falls.

And maybe that's what's supposed to happen. Maybe she was wrong all along.

One night, as she moves over him, gasping and clawing at his chest, Carter steadies her hips, slowing her frantic pace. He sits up, holds her hair as he looks her straight in the eye. Blair bites her lip so hard she bleeds, and Carter's eyes glisten in the darkness.

It's a silent ultimatum that sounds a lot like: _Will we, or won't we? _

:::

When it's nearing December, Carter drags Blair to Midtown, promising her a surprise.

"What could _possibly _be a good surprise in this neighborhood?" Blair asks, the ever-present little frown on her face. Carter laughs it off, already used to his girlfriend's endless disapproval of anything off the Upper East Side.

When they arrive at a beautiful high-rise apartment, Blair shoots him a confused look, runs her hands over the bright new finishes.

"It's…"

"Mine," he finishes, wrapping his arms around her waist. Blair cocks an eyebrow as he takes her hips and guides her to the floor-length windows, the view of the East River from right where they're standing.

"Oh," she breathes, pressing a small hand against the glass.

"Now that I'm back in my parents' good graces," Carter sighs, "and back in school, they've gotten a bit overexcited with the gift-giving."

Blair watches as Carter's cool façade falters for a moment, his eyes softening.

"What is it?" she asks, taking his face in her hands. "This is amazing."

"It is," Carter agrees, glancing around. "And maybe, in the future, there will be room enough for two." Carter coughs, chuckling at his own nervousness. "I know that Yale is your plan – "

Blair watches him with wide eyes, her lips parting in surprise.

" – but I wanted you to have a home to come back to. Here, with me."

"Carter…"

He cracks a smile, suddenly defensive. "Look Waldorf, you don't have to decide now. I was just – " His words are lost, and her lips are on his, her hands tugging on his shirt collars. She pulls away, her nose skimming the tip of his.

"I love you," she breathes. She resists the urge to cower away, to clap her hands over her mouth and take the words back. She closes her eyes for a moment, sees Nate hesitating and Chuck's back as he turns to walk away. She opens her eyes to find Carter looking at her in a way she doesn't quite understand.

_That's what its like to feel wanted. _

He pauses, his lips forming a gentle smile.

"And I love you."

There's something about the way he says it – the way he states it as his own. It's not a game of who loves the other more, or who doesn't love the other at all. Carter's is a heart that matches her own – careful and honest.

And, quite suddenly, Carter becomes _the plan _too.

:::

She clings to him that night, on the floor of his new apartment, atop the silky duvets that they've piled on over the hardwood. She wonders how people can make love to anyone else after they've memorized one person so completely.

There isn't an inch of her that isn't covered by Carter, and she gasps for breath, yanking her fingers through his golden hair. He lets out a strangled groan, face dropping to her chest in a way that tells her he's coming undone.

And so she lifts her hips, takes his lips with hers, and tells him she loves him in every way she knows how.

::::

As with most relationships that involve Blair Waldorf, it doesn't take too long for disaster to strike.

It's when Carter doesn't call for exactly four days that she finds her mind wandering to him at every hour of the day. He's not at his apartment, so she takes more drastic actions, putting on her best vixen red lipstick before heading over to Columbia.

"I – I don't – Um – "

It's Michael Welch who's stammering in front of her, one of the lacrosse stars she's seen following Carter around from time to time. But he's clearly more enraptured by the dip of her neckline. She repeats her words, her eyes darkening. "_Where _is Carter?"

"He wouldn't really want me to tell – "

"_Michael_," she hisses, growing impatient. She takes and breath and tries again, her hand falling to his chest. "Michael. Tell me where my boyfriend is."

She has an address in under two minutes.

:::

"What the hell is going on here?"

Carter's eyes are hooded and sleepy when she finds him. He hasn't shaved in days, and his clothes are wrinkled on him, completely disheveled. The underground bar is musky and dank, poker chips and whiskey glasses cluttered on every table. When he sees her, his face sobers, and he straightens up.

"Blair – "

She takes a step back when he reaches out for her. "_Don't, _Carter." His eyes darken, and he gives her space, leading her over to a quiet corner in the room. She looks around, lips pursed in disgust. "A gentlemen's club? You should be at school. You _should _– "

"That's your problem," he says, "You care too much about what other people want you to do – about what they think."

Blair recoils from the way he is so blatantly unafraid of her.

"You don't care what others think," she states. "You don't care what _I _think."

"Blair – "

She pauses, gives him a chance to explain. He tells her that it's something he got caught up in when he was just a boy, long before he fell in love with her. Long before Tuscany. He can't just walk away from it – things don't work that way around here, and he needs her to understand that. Blair is appalled when he goes as far as telling her about the game against Nate last year, and her heart pangs for her ex-boyfriend.

"Carter, who's this?" a guy leers from behind him. Carter throws him the finger, body angled protectively in front of Blair's.

"Look," he rasps, holding her face with one of his hands. "This has nothing to do with you, Blair." It's the wrong thing to say, and he realizes it the moment those words escape his lips. Blair has never minded being scorned or betrayed. Those are the things that she can fight, that she can jump back from.

But it's the thought of being pushed away, of being totally excluded, that eats away at her. Blair turns on her heel, hikes her purse higher on her shoulder.

And by the time Carter breaks away to chase after her, she's already speeding away in a cab.

:::

Blair won't speak to him, but he's not too worried. He knows that this is his punishment, her severest form of torture. Her cold shoulder is just biding time, waiting for him to make the grand gesture, to pull the next move.

When it comes to options, there really only is one.

And so he quits the club.

:::

And then this happens:

_Blair Waldorf, we regret to inform you that – _

_That – _

She doesn't finish it, just tries to rearrange the letters in her mind, but the answer doesn't change. Years of tests and studying and kissing ass, and it's all destroyed with one silly string of sentences. Yale doesn't want her.

She falls over the edge and watches as her life crumbles to pieces. She wants to call Serena – wants to call anyone – but all she can think of is Carter.

_ You care too much about what other people want you to do – about what they think._

Blair knows that he's right, that it's gotten to a point where he knows her too well, and that's absolutely terrifying. He sees right through her collected charade, and this incident will shatter it.

So she doesn't run to him. She runs away.

And she drinks until she can't hear his voice in her head anymore.

:::

"Carter."

"Serena?" He tries to hide the disappointment in his voice. It's two AM, and he'd thought it might be Blair when he picked up the phone. He greets the blonde anyway, ready to end the conversation just as soon as it starts, but she skips the pleasantries.

"It's Blair," Serena says, her voice more urgent than usual. Carter sits up in bed, and he's already pulling on his slacks when Serena explains that Blair's phone has been shut off for the past week. He shakes his head. He'd figured it was just her blocking his number or screening his calls.

"She didn't get into Yale," Serena finally explain, and Carter groans because that's not exactly a detail that you leave for the end of the conversation.

"Shit," he says, throwing on a white dress shirt. Serena shares the sentiment.

"Where do you think she might be?"

Serena pauses, drawing in a long breath before answering him. "Try The Palace."

:::

For once, the blonde is right.

Carter storms into The Palace like he's on a mission, grateful that the doorman points him to the bar rather than the rooms when he shows him a picture of Blair. She and Chuck are sitting at one of the round tables, one looking just as lost as the other. When Chuck's hand slides to her thigh, Carter feels his fingers curl into a fist. He takes a deep breath, swallows away the fury.

He'd heard that Chuck's father had passed, that he'd been going over the deep end because of it.

Carter will be damned if he drags Blair down with him.

They're both drunk, so Carter doesn't bother with Chuck. He goes straight to Blair, and she looks up at him in a haze, her eyes out of focus. Carter tugs down the hem of her dress so that it covers her thighs, and he goes to lift her over his shoulder.

"Hey," Chuck snarls, his words slurred. "We're having fun here."

Carter shrugs him off, cradling Blair against his chest. "Stay the _fuck _away from my girlfriend." He pauses, looking into the eyes of a boy he used to be friends with, or could've befriended once upon a time. His expression softens, and his words are gentle this time. "Don't be your father, man. That's not – it won't bring him back."

He doesn't know if Chuck hears him, or if he'll even remember this five minutes from now. His eyes flicker to Blair, then back to Carter.

"I love her," Chuck murmurs, but the words are empty. Blair turns her head in recognition, and Carter tucks her hair behind her ear. Chuck swallows, continuing. "But not the right way."

Carter doesn't say a thing, and he doesn't have to. He and Chuck Bass don't owe each other a damn thing. But there's something about the finality of this moment that satisfies him. Like this is the end of Chuck's chapter.

And maybe Carter will be the end of the entire book.

:::

"My boyfriend will be _very _angry with you," Blair pouts as Carter lays her down on his bed, pulling off her shoes. As much as she adores Carter, Eleanor will have his head if he lugs Blair home in this condition. "His name is Carter _Baizen_. We're fighting right now." She looks adorably ridiculous - like a parody of her normal self.

"Are you?" he quips, just to keep her awake. As he wipes the smudgy makeup from under her eyes, he wonders when he learned to be so gentle. It must have been Blair. It's what he's liked about her from the very beginning – the way she wipes the corner of his mouth when their done eating, straightens his tie like their any one of the married couples on the Upper East Side.

"But he loves me," Blair slurs, her eyes fluttering closed.

Carter nods, sliding the duvet over her. "He does."

Hours later, Blair wakes up, and Carter has his laptop propped up on his knee, a pencil tucked behind his ear. She stirs, digging her face into his side.

"Was it a nightmare?"

Carter shakes his head, raking his fingers through her hair as he uses the other hand to type. "Not quite."

She lets out a broken sob against his shirt. "I lost Yale."

And then she's in his arms, and it doesn't seem quite as horrible as it did the day before. He presses his lips to her hair. He doesn't tell her it's okay, and she's glad for it. It's _not_ okay.

But it's not quite the end of the world.

"I'm here, baby." Carter lifts her into his lap, and now it's his turn to take care of her. He talks to her, cracks jokes until the tears are just stains and the stains are gone too. And then they're turning to the computer, and the application for Columbia pops up on the screen.

And, just like that, _the plan_ changes again.

:::

And then _this _happens:

_Congratulations, Ms. Waldorf. We are pleased to inform you that – _

_That – _

"I got in," Blair cries, and Carter lifts her right off her feet, holding her waist as he spins her around. He doesn't want to admit that he's probably more excited than she is. It's stupid really, and he'll never emasculate himself by admitting it – but the thought of walking around Columbia with Blair on his arm fuels him like nothing else can. He stands in the middle of Central Park, holding her at his side, and he yells out at the small clusters of people on the field.

"My girlfriend just got into Columbia University," he exclaims, just to bother her. Around them, a few people smile politely, others offer giggles and claps. Blair flushes, slaps at his chest.

"_Carter_."

"Blair," he retorts. He pauses, fixes the headband in her hair so that it's perfectly straight. "I'm so proud of you."

And it's a shame, really. She's heard that sentence such few times in her life that it actually knocks the breath out of her when Carter says it.

"Oh," she says, lifting her chin. "_Thank _you."

And then Carter laughs, tickling her sides as he leads her out of the park to buy her a celebratory dinner.

"Why are you laughing?" Blair sniffs, glancing up at him. He kiss her forehead, presses her finger to the crease between her brows.

"Because," he says, "I am _so_ ridiculously in love with you."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I just wanted to those of you who are indulging in a little bit of CaB with me. :) Where would you like to see Carter and Blair next? Any characters you'd like to see pop up? If you have the time, please review. Thanks for reading! xoxo


	5. Upper East Side: Part II

**Upper East Side: Part II **

_I remember when we first started._

_You came to me and you were broken hearted._

_I took you in and wiped all your tears away._

_I gave you loving more than any other gave._

:::

She can't recall when Blair became Blair_andCarter_.

The rest of her senior year is flying right by and somehow, right under her perky nose, they've become an inseparable entity. And this, _this _is what it must mean to love someone with your entire being. It scares her, throws her off an already tipped balance. She doesn't want to – She just cannot –

Blair Waldorf doesn't _need _anybody.

But as she hooks her arm through his, she doesn't ever want to let go. It's corny, really. It's her inner Audrey, wistful and romantic, feuding with her independent and headstrong Meryl. Blair glances up at him, the way his hair is highlighted by strands of blonde from the sun, the curl of his full lips over that sharp jaw of his. She swallows, swallows again, resisting the urge to throw her arms around his neck right then and there.

He's the only boy who puts a falter in her step.

_That scares her, too._

:::

"_Warm Bodies_?"

"Ridiculous."

"_Side Effects_?"

"A snore."

"_Silver Linings Playbook_?"

"Overrated," Blair huffs. Her arms are crossed, Carter's chin on her shoulder, his hands on her belly as they observe the board outside of the AMC Loews. He laughs in her ear, pulling her away from the people in line.

"Baby, you think everything is overrated," Carter says, squeezing her hip. "And this, coming from a girl who idolizes _Audrey Hepburn_."

"Audrey is an _icon_," Blair argues. She offers him a coy smile. "Besides, I'm not the one who styles my hair like a mini-William Holden."

Carter smirks, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. "I hear that the two of them had an affair."

"Did they?"

"As if you didn't already know," he laughs, pulling her over to the ticket window. She rolls her eyes when he buys them tickets to see _Safe Haven_, sighing _"If I wanted to watch a small town bumpkin fall in treacherous love, I would've asked Dan Humphrey how his relationship is going."_

Of course, Carter ignores her.

And of course, she's secretly ecstatic.

Blair begrudgingly plants herself down onto the black cushions, sipping the chocolate mocha in her hands, and she doesn't know how Carter can just sit there munching on pre-processed oily popcorn. Feeling generous, she raises her straw to his lips.

But when she looks again, half of the cup is empty.

"_Carter_."

"I love you."

He says it so simply now, the phrase rolling right off of his tongue all of the time – like he doesn't have to think about it, ponder it, connive or scheme his way around it. Blair sucks in her bottom lip, glad for the dim lighting in the theater. It's 11 on a Sunday, and aside from the tiny old couple and the small gaggle of giggling teenage girls in the front row, they're completely alone in the side aisle.

As Josh Duhamel and Julianne Hough fall in love on the wide screen, Carter's lips fall upon Blair's neck, his teeth grazing her earlobe. Her eyes widen as his fingers traipse across her legs, up her thighs, under her dress.

"_Oh_," she gasps because, suddenly, he's right _there_, fingers pushing cotton aside, pushing into her.

"Shh," he murmurs, a second finger following the first, sinking into her heat.

"Baizen," she hisses. "This is _not_ some afterschool special." But she doesn't move, makes no effort to pull away. Blair closes her eyes, forgets where she is, just as she often does when she's with Carter.

"You're right," Carter chuckles, applying the tiniest bit more pressure. "It's Sunday."

"This is appalling," she moans, struggling to stay quiet. Her teeth clench, and her hands reach out to clamp down on his arm.

"It's heinous," Carter agrees, quickening his pace. "But it's also a rite of passage. And I'm not letting you graduate from high school until you fool around in the back of a movie theater."

And for the next two hours, the screen watches them.

:::

There are other moments too, dark ones in the edges of the history they're building together.

Blair finds that after sleeping with Carter so often, she isn't able to sleep alone. So she's there when he sits up in bed, gasping for breath, fingers clawing at the sheets.

And it's always her hand sliding up to his back. His head finds her lap, and they stay that way until Blair convinces him that they both have class in the morning, that he has to go back to sleep. Minutes go by before Carter's breath evens again, and his cheek rests against her bare stomach in a way that Blair will never admit that she loves.

Nobody will ever know her kindness.

Nobody except Carter.

She stares at the ceiling as her fingers play with his hair, and she wonders if Carter Baizen isn't as brave as he pretends to be. She thinks of a lost boy, just out of high school, wandering the world all on his own. She touches his forehead, imagining the horrors he might have come across. She tries to take them away.

And when Carter wakes up, he goes on with his wide grin and casual demeanor like dreams can't touch him. And she lets him because she knows what it's like to bury and lock away and _ignore _for the sake of sanity. Blair knows exactly what it's like.

And so she lets him pretend.

And she picks up the loose pieces that try to tell him otherwise.

:::

Carter thinks that Satan himself must have invented Sunday brunches. There's something about stale conversations and plastic smiles that's torturous at such an ungodly hour. The only perks are the free food – the rich don't serve anything that's not gourmet – and Blair. She's got on this pretty orange dress that he bought for her himself. Her hair is up, loose strands grazing her neck, a perfect imperfection that only Blair can manage. And all he wants is to pull her away from this social torture to somewhere fun, where she'll be the real Blair – his Blair.

But she's already pasted on her tight smile, her chin tilted up, her eyes cold.

Carter sighs.

The irony of it all is that _he's _the one hosting this brunch. Or at least, his parents are. He takes Blair's hand as they walk through the halls of his childhood home.

_Home._ He takes a moment to consider the word.

His childhood _residence_.

They walk into the dining room and are immediately thrust into the throng of socialites crowding the breakfast buffet. He swallows down his panic when Blair finds Serena at one of the small tables, and her hand slips away from his. The Archibalds are here too, Nate cowering at him from the corner. Carter considers going over to tease him for a while until he feels a solid hand on his shoulder.

"Richard," Carter says, reaching out to shake his father's firm hand. The man's eyes are stern, but he pulls Carter into an awkward hug, patting his back.

"It's good to have you back, son."

"Right."

"And I see that you brought Blair along. Well done. Maybe you'll hold on to this one, and she'll knock some sense into that head of yours."

"Dad – "

"I hope that you're taking law school applications seriously," Richard continues, leading him through the room. Carter rolls his eyes.

"I don't apply for another year," Carter says.

"With that attitude, you'll end up living in hostels with the other failed drop-outs in Europe," Richard huffs, serving himself a plate full of appetizers.

"I did it once before," Carter retorts. "I can do it again."

"Oh, Richard. Leave him alone." It's Emily Baizen who appears in front of them, wrapping her arm around her son and squeezing his shoulders. "This is Sunday brunch, not an interrogation." Carter relaxes, grateful that she hasn't given up her role as mediator between the two of them.

"Hey, Mom."

"My beautiful boy," Emily swoons, affected by her son's immediate charm as most women are when they encounter him. "You're as handsome as ever. Does Blair Waldorf have something to do with this glow of yours?"

Carter grins. "I – "

"I'd like to think so," Blair cuts in, slipping her arm through his. She's the picture of grace as she hugs Emily and places a light kiss on Richard's cheek. His parents are smitten with her, and he's not surprised. It's easy to fall in love with Blair, and he finds himself doing it all over again as she talks fashion week with his mother and compliments his father's suit.

"I'm so glad that Carter brought you along to brunch," Emily says. "Ever since the summer, our phone conversations have been _Blair this_ and _Blair that_."

"_Jesus_," Carter murmurs, but Blair is delighted as she nudges his arm.

"Have they?" Blair asks, egging his mother on.

Emily nods. "The first girl he's even bothered to tell me about. Oh, Blair. He's been this spirited little bachelor since diapers, and now he's absolutely _smitten _– "

"Alright, Mom," Carter says, moving to guide Blair away before his mother starts getting nostalgic and there's no chance to escape. But before they leave, Carter feels that cold hand on his shoulder again. His father leans forward, words harsh and serious in his ear.

"We'll continue this conversation another time," he says. "You _will _get into Harvard Law."

Blair pretends not to eavesdrop, lifting her fingers to examine her nails.

But as Carter gives his father an uncomfortable nod, she begins to wonder if she might just have a thing for guys with daddy issues.

:::

Carter's old room is exactly what she'd expected it to be. Blue and white paint striping his walls with the bed sheets to match, model sailboats and antique miniatures that must belong to his father, and his desk is scattered with books as if he'd left for school one day and had never come home.

Blair blinks, imagining that it's not so far from the truth.

"So this is where you got up to all of your teenaged debauchery?" Blair asks, sinking down onto his bed. He follows after her, and it's almost surreal, having her here.

"Some of it," Carter admits. He reaches out like he can't stop touching her, like he has to have a hand on her at all times. She's his anchor, the only thing keeping him from another plane ticket, another country. He's not used to depending on anyone but himself, but here he is – tethered to a tiny brunette who knows every single thing about him.

"I can only imagine all of the girls you've traipsed around here," she murmurs, an edge of jealousy evident in her tone. Carter smirks, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"You're wrong," he says. "You're the first."

"Oh," Blair breathes, leaning into him.

"When I was younger, I preferred to bed and dash – at other houses," Carter smirks. Blair rolls her eyes, slapping him away.

"You're disgusting."

But he doesn't reply, just takes her lips with his own, leaving her breathless as she sinks back onto the duvet. His kiss is desperate, his hands urgent on her thighs and in her hair. She's lost for a moment before she realizes what they're doing – and where they're doing it.

"_Carter_," she gasps. "Your parents are downstairs."

He pulls away for a moment, eyes lit up with amusement as he stares down at her. "So is your ex-boyfriend."

"So is _your _ex-girlfriend," Blair challenges.

They're quiet for a moment before they share the same mischievous smile. And then she's pulling him down and her dress is lost on the floor and they're smothering each other's cries with kisses –

And brunch is much too cold to bother finishing.

:::

It would be a lie to say that Blair and Carter are the picture of a perfect relationship. They fight often – all of the time, about most things. At the end of the day, he is the _insufferable _Carter Baizen and she is the _bitchy _Blair Waldorf. And they're not afraid to let each other know it. It's a foreign feeling for both of them, as Blair is used to being feared and Carter is used to being followed.

Their fights are free of lies and schemes and avoidance – they are blatant and fierce, and they both sort of love it.

"_What _did you just call me?"

"Immature. I called you immature."

"This is the last time we go clubbing," Blair spits. "This is the last time I go _anywhere _with you."

"Yeah, sure," he says, sitting back on his sofa. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"That bimbo had her hands all over you," Blair hisses, kicking the remote away before he can reach it. She delights in his groan, knowing that he's missing the big game on tonight. "And you _let _her."

"Was this before or after you let that loser buy you a drink?" he asks, standing to level with her. Carter is so close that he's intoxicating, and Blair has to force herself to keep steady.

"I – "

"Don't say something you won't be able to take back, Blair. Because I'm not Chuck Bass. You won't be able to play your way out of this one," Carter says, blue eyes darkening into an angry indigo. "And I'm not _Nate_. I'm not going to lie down and let you step all over me."

And now she's furious. "No. You're Carter Baizen. And you're a total _ass_."

:::

Carter only waits two minutes before he follows her outside.

:::

Just as he suspects, Blair's right outside of the lobby, arms crossed tightly over her chest. He can't help but smile at her disgruntled posture, the pout on her lips as her eyes follow the cars passing by. With her long trench coat and loose hair, she looks like a movie star between takes.

And Carter can only hope to step in as her leading man.

"Come inside."

"_No_."

"Come inside, Blair," he repeats, reaching out to loosen her arms.

"I don't need you to take care of me."

"I know you don't," Carter agrees. "But _I_ need _you_."

"You need me," she states, eyes finally meeting is. She blinks at the honesty of his words, the hesitance in his voice. He swallows, his throat constricted, his heart palpitating as Blair studies him.

"Are you going to make me say it again?"

Of course, she nods, smiles in a way that only she can pull off.

"I need you, Blair," he murmurs, pulling her closer to shield her from the cold. "I need you here, by my side, in my apartment, on my arm. I need you so much, and I can't imagine the day that I won't."

Blair gasps, mind clawing for memories of the boy she met in Tuscany, the one who pulled her in with promises of spontaneity, the one who so often avoided the treacherous talk of the future.

_I'm a man of the world._

And now –

"I'm yours. Forever."

:::

Forever.

_Forever_.

Blair takes the word and grasps onto it, tucks it into the pocket of her memory, so sure that this can't be real, so sure that he'll run from her like her mother does, like Serena had, like Nate and Chuck were so fond of doing. But he doesn't seem to get the memo – he doesn't seem to be able to let go.

- Not when he takes her to prom, dressed exactly as she'd always dreamed in a dark gray tux that offsets her floor-length black gown. They're at the center of the crowd when she's crowned prom queen, and she knows that Carter thinks it's silly, but he indulges her anyway, giving her an exaggerated bow before he whisks her across the dance floor. And after, they take the limo with Dan and Serena, laughing and tipsy and absolutely carefree, like Carter has been the missing piece of her exasperated high school career this whole time.

"He's so different," Serena says when the limo pulls over by Central Park and the four of them share a bottle of Dom by the desolate pond. Blair tilts her head back, watching Carter and Dan talk about some Parisian literature that they both love. She knows that she should mind that he's here, that her prom night will forever be tainted by the presence of a Humphrey.

But her mind is too empty, too dizzy with Carter.

"What do you mean?" Blair asks, glancing at Serena.

"With you, B," Serena whispers. "He's so _in love_."

For a moment, Blair wonders if Serena is jealous, but she forgets the thought when her best friend pulls her into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy that you're happy, B. I know that I've made so many mistakes – "

But Blair silences her, hugging back. "Anything you've done, I've done it too, remember?" She pulls away, but they find each other's hands in the darkness. "And I'm happy that you're happy. Even if it _is _with Humphrey."

Serena rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. "Let's go get then, before we lose our boyfriends to some old French guy."

- And not when he takes her over to Columbia's campus to acclimate her to college life. It's so _easy_, the way he pulls her onto his lap in the student lounge and introduces her to his closest friends sans an ounce of regret. Blair hesitates at first, grasping onto her adult voice as she tries to fit in among the older crowd. But soon enough, the girls are planning shopping trips, and the guys are admiring her golden brown hair, her creamy skin.

And it's Carter who gets nervous. "Hands off, man. My girlfriend's not interested."

- And especially not when he's standing up beside Eleanor at Blair's graduation – she swears that her mother is growing a little _too _fond of Carter for her taste. He's the loudest in the crowd, lifting a bright dozen of peonies in the air, much to Chuck's annoyance, Nate's chagrin, and Serena's pleasant surprise. But Blair doesn't notice. Because when the ceremony's over, she's in Carter's arms, her cap tumbling off of her head, their lips captured in a laughing kiss.

:::

And then classes are over, and the stress is supposed to fade away, but Carter's nightmares still come, clawing their way into the night. Blair stirs in bed, peering into the darkness when she realizes that the bed is empty beside her.

"Carter?"

"Go back to sleep, baby," Carter murmurs. He's sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders hunched over. Blair ignores his request, crawling across the comforter. She rests her cheek on his Blair back, reaching up to massage his neck.

"What is it?" Blair asks, lips brushing his skin. "You never sleep, you're always…"

"Blair – "

"You can tell me," she insists, taking his chin so that he'll look at her. When he doesn't respond, she continues. "I have nightmares, too. I dream that Tuscany never happened, that our paths never crossed. I dream that I'm Ingrid Bergman and you're Humphrey Bogart, and you let me get on that plane to New York alone, and you let me _go _– "

Carter doesn't let her finish, pulling her in for a kiss so quickly that it nearly knocks the breath out of her. When he pulls away, Carter lets out a weary breath, glancing at her with tired eyes. He lets out a half-hearted grin, reaching out to tug at the collar of the long oxford shirt she's wearing.

"You look so good in my clothes," Carter says, toying with the top button.

"_Carter_."

He lets out an exasperated breath, swiveling away. Blair almost considers forcing it out of him until he begins to speak in a voice so low that she barely hears it.

"I came here for you," Carter says. "And I'll never regret that."

Blair swallows. 'Okay."

"But I don't want to be a lawyer."

"_Oh_."

"I want to travel when I graduate," Carter continues. "You _know _that – that I can't just be _stuck _here."

"But – "

"But I don't want that if it's not with you," he insists. And then Carter's standing up, searching the room until he pulls a silver set of keys from his coat pocket. Blair's eyes widen when he drops them into her hand. "I want you to move in with me."

"You know that I will," Blair says softly, desperate to calm him.

"No, Blair." He sucks in a breath. "I want you to move in. I want to finish Columbia, and I want to wait for you to finish your two years after I graduate. And then I want to get on a plane and leave, Blair. I never want to look back."

Blair stops breathing for a moment, waiting for him to continue.

"And I want you to come with me."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! Thank you so much for the amazing reviews. They're such a huge motivation, so keep them coming if you can. I hope you're still reading and still enjoying CaB. Here are a few teasers for the next chapter - predictions are welcome!

It will be titled "Cape Cod".

Bree Buckley will be present - and stirring up a bit of drama.

And...Carter and Blair's anniversary will swing around.


End file.
